


Weird, Squirrelly Kid

by GilliganGoodfellow



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Character, BDSM mentioned but not shown, Cole (Dragon Age) Being Cole, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Cole (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Dorian Pavus, Protective Iron Bull, Self-Indulgent, Sorry Not Sorry, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: You like when he draws shapes and words on your back. Or feather touches, strokes through the hair. Healing hurts and letting you sleep while being held tightly.Iron Bull likes to pamper Dorian after sex, and Dorian likes to be pampered.When they realise that the touch starved Cole has been 'listening' in on them, they invite him to experience such care first hand.





	Weird, Squirrelly Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Have some self indulgent fluff that popped into my head and refused to leave. Apologies if anything is OOC or bad canon. I'm still quite new to the fandom.

Sometimes, only sometimes mind you, Dorian thinks that he enjoys the aftermath of sex with The Iron Bull almost as much as he does the act itself.

Laid on his back, naked but for the sheet, his head rested against the other man’s thigh, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of Bull’s hand in his hair, carding through the locks. The other hand is rested on his torso, drumming a gentle pattern along his ribs. Then it stops, and moves to rest over his heart. “You look ready to sleep, Kadan.”

Dorian opens his eyes. “Keep doing that with my hair, and I just might.” He hears the rumble in Bull’s chest as he laughs.

Dorian shifts slightly, grimacing as the sheet makes contact with the skin of his rope burned wrists. He moves one into his eyesight, and immediately it is taken in one of Iron Bull’s large hands, the other one appearing in Dorian’s vision a moment later to rub a healing salve into the broken skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“I vaguely remember the ropes being my idea.” Dorian says, matter of factly. “Besides, you’re never happy unless you have a something to fuss over.”

“As long as it is not _really_ hurting you.”

“Did I say Katoh?” Dorian looks him in the eye, which granted is rather awkward from his position. “Stop being a worry wort, and put that salve on the other wrist too.” He holds it up. “If you would be so kind.”

Bull’s laughter returns, and it brings a smile to Dorian’s face as he closes his eyes again, feeling the salve being applied. He’s just about ready to slip into sleep when it happens.

An unmistakable, very loud, gurgle.

“Well, that is embarrassing.” Dorian says, although his voice retains its usual bright calmness even with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “It would appear that your attentions have made me hungry as well as tired.”

“I’ll go see what they have in the kitchens.” Bull says, ignoring Dorian’s whine as he stands, leaving the Tevinter Mage alone on the bed to watch as the Bull dons his green and red striped trousers. He throws a smile at Dorian as he heads for the door, opening it and stepping out into the corridor.

It’s later into the evening, and the corridor is lit only by torches further down the hall. But even with this level of shadows, he can not help but see the creature that scurries quickly to hide in an alcove.

A creature in a ridiculous hat.

“Cole?” Iron Bull’s tone is friendly, genuinely pleased to see the boy. “What are you doing prowling around?”

“I don’t prowl.” Cole says, his head tilted so that the hat covers his face. “I was listening, to you and Dorian.”

Cole has a pathological incapability to lie, and sometimes Bull wishes that wasn’t the case.

“You were...listening to us?”

“You like to comfort. To protect. Own. Say ‘You are mine’ and ‘You are wanted’ with gentle touches.” He kicks at the ground with the point of his toe. “It’s peaceful.”

“You think sex with Dorian is peaceful?”

“You think sex with Bull is gentle?” Dorian says, a smile on his lips as he leans against the doorframe, now dressed in loose trousers and a robe.

“Not THAT bit.” Cole looks up just enough for Bull to see the disgusted sneer his mouth has taken on, and it brings a smile to Iron Bull’s face. How can a kid who probably has enough assassination skill to bring down the toughest Qunari bastard with a spoon, also be so fucking innocent? “I don’t listen to that bit. I did, once.” He shakes his head. “I would have used the word. Katoh.” He hugs himself. “I like the other part. At the end. Caring and holding, whispers.”

Iron Bull crosses his arms, surprised that he was not as upset about Cole’s mental eavesdropping as he probably should be. “Whose thoughts were you listening to?”

“Dorian’s mostly.” Cole turns towards Dorian, his face still obscured by the hat. “You like when he draws shapes and words on your back. Or feather touches, strokes through the hair. Healing hurts and letting you sleep while being held tightly.” Cole steps back into the alcove. “It makes you feel safe. Secure in a way no walls can make. You can forget the pain your father caused.”

Bull narrows his eyes. “This isn’t the first time you’ve dropped into Dorian’s head while we’re together, is it?”

Iron Bull is ready to admonish the boy further, when he notices the tiny spot of damp that appears in his shirt. Hears the sniff. Sees the way the boy’s hands are trembling.

It’s clear that Dorian has noticed it to, as he immediately steps forward. “Cole, it’s okay, we’re not angry.” He makes eye contact with Bull, who nods.

“Might have been good to have asked, but we know that you can’t help it sometimes, Kid.”

“The Iron Bull? Dorian?” Cole looks up, his mouth a thin line. “Please may I carry on listening?”

“Ummmm…” Bull looks at Dorian.

“I won’t make a sound. You won’t know I’m here. And I won’t tell anyone else.”

“Cole.” Dorian keeps his voice quiet as he steps towards the boy. “Are you...lonely?”

“No.” Cole looks back down. “Varric and Solas and…”

“What I meant is...” Dorian thinks about his wording. “The way Bull likes to treat me, the things you listen to. Do you listen because you wish someone would care for you THAT way sometimes?”

Beside him Iron Bull shifts, uncrossing his arms.

“It stops the hurt.” Cole whispers, so quiet that they almost don’t hear it.

‘ _You poor, touch-starved creature_.’ Dorian thinks as he reaches out towards the boy, but to his surprise, Cole scurries back, falling to the ground.

“No.” He shakes his head, one hand held up protectively. “Can’t start at the end. Beginning first. The care comes after the sex. Sharp knives and fire in places that shouldn’t burn.” He hugs himself. “Skin inside skin, and mess. The smell is wrong. I don’t want the fire.”

Dorian bites his lip as he turns to look at Iron Bull. The eye contact between them says more that any words could, and the giant gives a curt nod before kneeling down.

“Imekari.” He whispers with a softness that even Dorian has never heard from Bull as he takes Cole’s hands within his own, enveloping them. “Look at me, Cole. I know you can see what I’m thinking.”

“Small precious thing. Waif. Must not damage. Must not hurt. Protect. Comfort. Like a child. Imekari. My weird, squirrelly kid.”

Cole doesn’t say anything else, and Bull pulls him up to his feet, a steady hand on his back as he leads him into Dorian’s room. Sitting him on the edge of the bed, Bull takes off the boy’s hat, running a hand quickly through the tangled locks before kneeling down and quietly taking off his shoes and socks, unable to resist running a finger along the sole of Cole’s foot. The leg kicks slightly, and Bull chuckles and stands, opening the set of drawers beside him and pulling out a plain (by Dorian’s standards) set of pyjamas.

“Go change into these.” He points at the washroom. “Leave your clothes on the floor. I can deal with them. Go on.”

Cole takes the pyjamas into trembling hands, feeling the soft wool material between his fingers. When Bull clears his throat, the boy darts into the washroom, closing the door behind him.

Dorian meanwhile is busying himself with changing the sheets on the bed, hiding the old ones under the furniture with a mental note to have them collected later. By the time he is done, Cole has emerged. Dorian’s clothes are a little to big on him, but they look warm and comfortable, which is the goal. Under Bull’s guidance, Cole sits mutely on the bed, his hands folded tightly against his abdomen. The Qunari then sits behind him and pulls him into his lap, head rested against his chest as the Bull’s large arms encase him, holding him tightly.

“There we are.” Bull says softly. “Safe and warm. Relax. You’re too tense, kid. You don’t need to be scared. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen. You’re in charge.”

“Katoh.” He whispers. “I know the word. Dorian used it once. You stopped. Started whispering to him.”

Iron Bull nods. “We can have the watch word, if it makes you feel safer.” He runs his hand through Cole’s hair. “But there won’t be any sex. Not tonight.”

“But…”

“I know what you think the rules are. But I also know what your wishes are, and Dorian and I respect and care about them. Because we respect and care about you.”

“Oh.” Cole says, and the sudden wave of relief and relaxation that passes through him is so strong that Bull wonders how the boy doesn’t melt.

The Qunari looks up, wondering where Dorian has gone until he sees the Tevinter mage emerge from the washroom, a cloth draped over his arm, water bowl in hand. His other hand holds a comb.

Dorian kneels on the bed and puts the cloth in the water, wringing it out before bringing it up to Cole’s face. He wipes at the corners of his eyes, then cheeks, washing away tears. That done he dampens the cloth again, and starts cleaning the rest of the face.

“Close your eyes.”

Cole does so, and Dorian gently passes the cloth over them before moving down to the boy’s hands, tracing scars and rough skin with feather light touches of the cloth, and gently working dirt out from under the growing nails.

Bull smiles as he watches his Kadan work, resting his head on the top of Cole’s crown. The boy doesn’t speak, but Bull catches sight of him in the mirror on the opposite side of the room, and through it can see that Cole is watching Dorian, but with eyes that keep slowly falling shut and then opening again. Bull suspects that if Cole is capable of sleeping (Fuck if Bull knows) then he will be soon.

Dorian finishes with the hands and moves down to Cole’s feet, smirking as he observes the way the legs twitch when he cleans the soles. “Someone is ticklish.”

Cole narrows his eyes, glares at Dorian, and then closes them. The Tevinter Mage thinks that it probably would have been more threatening if Cole wasn’t currently being held in Bull’s lap like a sleeping child in oversized pyjamas.

“Right.” He says once the feet are cleaned. “Time to finally do something about your hair.”

“I like my hair.” Cole mumbles, eyes still closed. “No cutting.”

“Fine, no cutting.” Dorian holds up the comb. “But if I don’t at least put a comb through it soon I might set fire to the carpet with frustration.”

“The carpet won’t like that.”

“No.” Iron Bull chuckles. “The carpet won’t like that.”

Cole nods, and Iron Bull carefully moves his young charge forward slightly, allowing the now standing Dorian full access to his head. The mage has the comb held between his teeth as he uses his fingers to gently work out the worst of the knots. That done, he retrieves the comb and runs it through the blond hair.

Bull smiles, whispering into Cole’s ear. “Dorian loves it when I play with his hair.”

“This is hardly playing.” Dorian says, fake annoyance in his voice. “Cole you are nineteen if not twenty. Have you EVER used a comb in your life?”

Cole doesn’t answer.

“I could be a while.” Dorian says, running the comb through another section of hair. He continues with the motions long after the hair has been freed from tangles and combed into a style of sorts.

While Dorian is working, Bull starts to whisper. “You’re good, kid. Just relax.” He rubs a hand up and down his back. “You’re always going out of your way to help people. Now it’s your turn. Your turn to feel wanted and loved, just like you deserve to be.”

They sit quietly for a moment, then Cole starts to tremble, falling forward with his face in his hands. Sighing sadly, Dorian puts the comb to one side while Bull pulls him back against his chest, rocking him.

“There.” Bull says. “You really needed tonight, didn’t you kid.”

Once Cole has calmed down, Bull ruffles his hair gently.

“Is there anything else you want, kid? What else do you like listening to other people feeling?”

“I’d be careful asking questions like that.” Dorian teases as he sits back on the bed, but it turns to a frown as he realises that Cole isn’t answering.

“Cole?” Giving him what he hopes is a friendly smile, the mage rests a hand against the side of Cole’s face, index finger slowly running a circle around the edge of the ear. “You can ask for things. It’s okay.”

Cole blinks slowly, before looking at Dorian. “Sometimes he writes words. Kadan. Love. Amatus. He spells Amatus wrong, but you don’t tell him. Words are meaning, not letters. And it still feels the same.”

Dorian nods, opening his arms so Cole can fall into them, his forehead rested on the mage’s shoulder. Chuckling, Dorian indicates the boy’s back with a sweep of his hand. “Your canvas, Amatus.”

Bull laughs, shifting so that Cole is sat on the bed between them, and slowly starts to trace circles on his back. Large and small, in random places, taking mental notes when Cole shifts or shudders in discomfort, so he knows where to stay and where to avoid. Cole is, as it turns out, incredibly ticklish, something that Bull files away under ‘things not to tell Sera’ in his mind.

Dorian smiles, finger gently tracing a few shapes of his own as he concentrates on Cole’s breathing, listening for signs of discomfort but only hearing a slow, deep rhythm. Dorian loves the evenings when he lays on his stomach, reading a book out loud, while Bull lazily traces shapes and words on his naked back. With Cole they leave the wool shirt in place though, tracing through the material. Neither Dorian nor Bull, for all their promiscuous reputation, are about to try and break the boundaries set by what Dorian strongly suspects, based on tonight and other observations, to be awakening asexuality.

The last thing Dorian wants is for Cole to feel uncomfortable or like he is wrong to feel how he does. Like he should be acting a different away, allowing himself to be ‘used’ a different way. Dorian knows what that feels like, and he will be damned as an abomination before he allows Cole to experience it.

He makes eye contact with Iron Bull, and returns the knowing, calm smile that his Amatus gives him. The men are both silent, quietly attending to Cole who by this point has pretty much handed himself over to their trust.

Dorian feels it, the moment that Cole’s breathing slows completely, his grip on the mage’s robe loosening.

Working together, they carefully manoeuvre him so he is laying down, pulling the sheet up to cover him to his chin.

“So.” Dorian says quietly as they climb off the bed. “He does sleep.”

“And he’s sleeping in your bed.” Bull sighs. “Where are WE going to sleep, Kadan?”

“Oh I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Dorian smiles, and his stomach gurgles.

He falls forward to lean his forehead against Bull’s chest with a frustrated sigh, and the Qunari laughs, rubbing the back of the Mage’s head. “I’ll go find some food.”

“No, I’ll go. Bring back something for breakfast as well.” Dorian kisses the giant’s shoulder, and fixes his robe. “Look after him.”

Iron Bull nods, watching the mage leave before returning to the bed. He lays on his side on top of the sheets, watching the sleeping boy..

“You’re a funny one, kid.” He whispers, resting a hand on Cole’s chest. “But we won’t have you any other way.”

Bull resolves to have a talk with Varric, see if they can’t put together a plan to help Cole with the loneliness his new found humanity has brought him. But that’s for tomorrow.

Tonight he puts a secure arm around him, and hopes that even asleep as he is, Cole can feel it.


End file.
